


Space Raiders of Nassau

by Aquafolie, ElDiablito_SF, krimsnkrams



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Featuring the Maxanor, Gratuitous overkill of sci-fi tropes, IN SPACE!, M/M, TW: Gross™ and ridiculous pet names, TW: repeated mention of weaponized earsies, Vague references to past trauma, everyone has a thigh holster, past Silver/Madi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquafolie/pseuds/Aquafolie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF, https://archiveofourown.org/users/krimsnkrams/pseuds/krimsnkrams
Summary: The space station Nassau is in open rebellion against the interplanetary Imperial Alliance.  Captain James Flint is in deep shit for rearranging the face of a fellow raider captain.  As punishment, Nassau's leaders assign an inside man to his crew, with a very convincing cover story (that they're married). Complicating things further is the fact that Flint's shifty new husband, John Silver, knows a lot more than he's telling about their secret mission. Their own survival as well as Nassau’s future depend on how successfully they can navigate the dangerous skies… and each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first ever SilverFlint Big Bang with art by the glorious Aquafolie and Krimsnkrams <3
> 
> First of all, I'd like to thank Mel for helping me organize the SFBB because I would not have been able to participate without her help and support: you da best, Mel!
> 
> Second, I'd like to give a big thanks and shout out to Anette who is a fabulous beta and if there are any typos in this, it's because the typo elves are real, and not because Anette did not read this way more times than I did. Bless you!
> 
> And now a general note on what you're about to see:
> 
> Flint is married to Miranda in this fic but unlike in canon, you will not actually see them having sex (sad or otherwise). You will, however, totally see Flint having sex with Silver, because that's what we're all here for, let's not lie to each other. There are also references to Flint's past relationship with Lord T. Ham, but they're sad :(((( I'm sorry T. Ham.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Space was a voracious maw set to devour you for the spec of floating debris that you were. It was merciless and cold, an ever-expanding horror devoid of a creator. And if James Flints’ punishment for his transgressions was to be expelled into that void once and for all, well, he would face it the same way he’d faced everything else in his life: with all-consuming rage. He would go out into that devouring maw like a comet, burning with insatiable indignation.

Flint measured each step towards the council chambers with wrathful resolve. For nearly a decade now he had captained his battleship for Nassau. He had hunted and killed for Nassau, that chunk of metal, that space station that the Imperial Alliance had declared _hostis humani generis._ He had fought in the hopes of making Nassau a better place, a place where people could be free of the yoke of the Empire, a place where people could walk with their heads held high, unlike those sycophants who crawled like vermin, weighed down by shame and the high gravity of places like Terra, Chikyu, and Erde. Terra, the planet of his birth, was a faraway dream, from which he had only woken up in time to save himself and Miranda. He should have woken up much sooner. He should have probably done a lot of things differently, but not punching Charles Vane in the face repeatedly was not one of those things.

“Wait.” Two voltage-spears crossed before Flint’s face as he was halted before the door of the chamber. The shackles around his wrists were beginning to chafe, and he’d honestly expected better of Eleanor than to put him in restraints, like some common miscreant. Especially after everything they’d been through together while building a Nassau that could self-govern, once she had usurped her father’s place and installed herself as High Commander.

Her father, a corrupt tadpole by the name of Richard Guthrie, had also been expelled into space after all, so what made Flint think she would treat him with any additional consideration? In particular for the grievous offense of punching one of her favorite fleet captains in his much lauded (if overrated) face.

“The Maxanor will see you now.”

The spears uncrossed and the door to the council chamber slid open, revealing the twin thrones upon which Eleanor and her wife Max were installed. The irony of the regal imagery was never lost on Flint, considering they had been in open rebellion against the Empire, but the Maxanor were not the types of co-regents who really went in for subtlety, or doing things only half way.

“Why Captain Flint,” Eleanor began.

“What an unexpected pleasure,” Max finished her sentence, as was their unequivocal habit.

“Mr. Featherstone will now read the complaint against you,” said Eleanor.

“And we shall determine the appropriate punishment for your crimes,” Max finished.

“Alleged crimes,” Flint added. They might have thumbed their collective noses at the laws of the Empire, but Nassau had its own laws, and he wasn't about to let Eleanor forget he'd had a heavy hand in drafting them.

Behind him, Featherstone, the Maxanor’s faithful dogsbody, cleared his throat. “You are charged with violating Article 5 of the Nassau Commonwealth: assaulting a fellow captain. This is your third infraction of Article 5, culminating in bodily injury to the aforementioned fellow captain, namely Charles Vane. How do you defend yourself?”

“He was asking for it,” Flint replied.

“If I understand you correctly,” Featherstone joined in gleefully, “Captain Vane explicitly asked that you rearrange his face and knock out two of his teeth with…” Here the lackey paused to consult his notes. “Ah yes, a glass dildo.”

“It was the only thing I had at hand,” Flint shrugged.

“Far be it for us to police what our Commonwealth citizens do in private,” Eleanor smirked while her wife looked on with an expression of detached amusement.

“I punched him in the face in private as well, High Commander,” Flint pointed out.

“And what did he do this time to incur such wrath, Captain?” Max asked.

“He had insulted my wife’s tea cups.”

“You have to admit,” Eleanor cut in, “that tea cups, while quaint, are outdated artifacts of Terran oppression.”

“Nevertheless,” Flint shrugged, “Miranda is very attached to them.”

“You’re lucky they haven’t been spaced with all that tea,” Eleanor scowled. “I thought that the entire purpose of us fighting against the Imperial Alliance was so that we could live the lives of our choosing,” Flint snarled. “And if that includes drinking tea out of goddamn tiny porcelain cups then we should be free to indulge in such activities until the moon of Erde loses its blue shade.”

“We cannot maintain order here if our captains keep brawling over the smallest slight!” Max interjected. “You know very well, Captain, that Nassau cannot sustain itself without the fleet.”

“The loss of a skilled captain, such as Captain Vane…”

“... Even if temporary…”

“...Can cause great setbacks in our resistance efforts.”

Flint’s head swiveled back and forth while the Maxanor spoke. “If you’re going to punish me, do so, but do not subject me to anymore of your moralizing.” He crossed his arms, rattling his chains like an angry ghost, and planted his feet shoulder-width apart, as if daring anyone to throw him into the great abyss.

“Give us the room, please,” Eleanor said with a nod towards Featherstone and the guards.

The door slid open, then shut, and the three of them were left alone. Flint exhaled. If Eleanor was going to kill him, she would not have dismissed her lackeys.

“You make things very difficult for us, Flint,” Eleanor spoke first.

“You have always been a loose cannon…” Max joined.

“...But a loose cannon we cannot do without.”

“Your battleship, the _Walrus,_ is one of the finest in the fleet,” Max said with a dreamy look in her eyes. “To lose a captain to such an asset…”

“...Would be disastrous! But we simply cannot let you go unchecked.”

“We have plans for you, Captain Flint.”

“Great plans,” they said in unison.

Flint shifted his weight from one leg to another. “Um… what sort of plans?”

The two women exchanged a look. “We need to place a person on your ship,” Eleanor started again.

“A person whom we both trust.”

“A person to whom you would be accountable.”

“And a person whose orders you will follow when the right time presents itself,” Max finished.

“I already have a quartermaster,” Flint protested. “My crew would never accept a High Command intrusion onboard! They’d just as soon space me themselves as take orders from someone they hadn’t voted in.”

“Then it would behoove us all to make it look like this person was there for a totally different and legitimate reason,” Max said with a smile. “A reason your crew would not dare question,” Eleanor’s smile was a matching half-moon to her wife’s.

“What reason might that be?” Flint asked as the hair rose up, follicle by follicle, on the back of his neck.

“As your spouse.”

“I already have a spouse!” he protested.

“Yes, Miranda Barlow,” Eleanor beamed. “Lovely woman.” “We missed her at our last soirée,” Max added.

“But you know very well that under Commonwealth laws you are allowed to have more than one spouse,” Eleanor said, drumming her fingers against the armrest of her throne. “You have a wife, you shall now take a husband.”

Flint began to stutter. “What… n-n-no! I’m… no! Who the fuck? No! I’m not going to marry some stranger just for the honor of having you police my every move!”

“We would never ask you to marry some _stranger_ , Captain,” Max spoke while bouncing one of her crossed legs over the top of the other. The metal tip of her pointed heel gleamed hypnotically before Flint's eyes.

“That’s right, Flint. You’re going to be _family_.”

“You’re going to marry my brother,” Max explained as Flint’s jaw slowly descended to the cold beams of the floor. “John Silver.”

***

How the hell was he supposed to explain this to Miranda? How the hell was he supposed to explain this to _Gates_? Hal knew that Flint had been arrested for brawling; how in the galaxy would he explain being let go _and_ getting hitched?

“You’ll figure it out,” Eleanor said, joining their hands while Flint refused to look his new… _whatever_ into the eyes. “Be sure to sell it though, Flint, because a lot more is riding on this arrangement than you are currently privy to.”

“It won’t be so difficult,” Silver smirked and added, “They’ll believe you fell for me. I’m a hard man not to like.” The little _shit_.

Flint’s only response was a half-snarl, his upper lip curving towards his nostrils in apparent disgust. This brother of Max’s, this John Silver, or whatever his real name was, had shown up on the space station a few weeks back, without a solar-sou to his name, and warrants out for his arrest from both Chikyu and Erde. Rumor had it he’d somehow managed to get himself convicted _in absentia_ for theft on two out of three Alliance planets, which was impressive, even by Nassau’s standards. They cut your limbs off for theft on Chikyu, Flint thought, as he let his eyes roam over his… new significant annoyance’s body. He seemed intact.

“Mr. Featherstone, if you please,” Max said and Flint’s hand twitched at the feel of Silver’s fingers sliding against his palm. If this little shit thought he could simply stroke Flint into submission, like some wildling beast, he had another thing coming.

“By the power vested in me by the High Commanders and the Nassau Commonwealth, I now pronounce you spouses for life. You may kiss the groom.”

“You don’t have to,” Silver pointed out rather jovially. “But you should probably practice now before we have to do it in front of your crew.”

“I’m not kissing you before my crew,” Flint snapped.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Eleanor reminded him, her hand firmly weighing down his shoulder. “Remember, Silver is our voice and will on your ship. If he tells you to kiss him, you better pucker up.”

“Or it’s a short walk to the eternal midnight for you, Captain,” Max reminded him with one of her charming smiles.

“We need you, Flint. Don’t fuck this up,” Eleanor whispered into Flint’s ear. At least she’d had the decency to remove his shackles before saddling him with a metaphorical ball and chain.

He and Silver walked in silence back to the docking bay, where a ferry vessel would take them both back to the _Walrus_. Flint took the opportunity to side-eye his new spouse, if only to size him up. Silver was significantly shorter than him, Flint observed, and made up of roughly 40% hair. Flint did not doubt for a moment that he could best him in a fight, should it come to that.

“We should probably come up with a proper cover story before we get back to your ship, don’t you think?” Silver suggested far too casually for Flint’s comfort. He talked like a man overly accustomed to lies of all kind. “Now where did you meet me when you fell in hopeless love with me at first sight?”

“Some whorehouse, I imagine.”

“Tsk tsk,” Silver shook his curls but did not appear particularly offended. “Now who would believe Captain Flint, Leviathan of Nassau’s fleet, would need to seek out the comfort of a whore?”

“Something tells me you got a better idea?”

“In fact, you should always assume that, James. I should call you James, shouldn’t I? It would be odd for me to call you ‘Captain’ since I’m your husband.”

Flint cringed and bit his tongue. The Maxanor were known for being ruthless, but this went above and beyond.

“I say we met when I tried to steal something from you,” Silver prattled on. “Perhaps that shiny trinket you wear on your gauntlet.” Flint’s hand immediately came to cover the object Silver’s thieving eye had narrowed in on. It had been a memento of better days, and not one he would happily part with. “You were enraged,” Silver went on, “you chased me down, slammed me against the wall, and put a knife to my throat.”

“Sounds about right,” Flint replied. “If oddly specific.”

“But, as it happened, in the heat of the struggle, we both noticed our mutual arousal. You’re a handsome man, Captain, and I am no saint.”

“Don’t get too caught up in your own narrative, you’ll confuse yourself,” Flint snarked.

“Well, one thing led to another. I gave you back your shiny trinket and you gave me the best blowjob of my remarkable young life.”

“Keep dreaming!”

“I gave _you_ the best blowjob of _your_ life?”

“You really have no shame at all, do you?” Flint stopped short. The ferry vessel loomed a few steps ahead of them and Flint struggled with the overwhelming urge to push this upstart under its jets.

“I prefer to live a life that is free of shame. It is merely a social construct, a spectre of Terran oppression, and one that I choose to unshackle myself from.”

“Didn’t know you were from Terra,” Flint said, frowning at his own distraction.

“Never said I was.”

“I should know _something_ about you, if I’m to pretend to like you.”

Silver emitted a small chuckle and toyed with his fingerless leather gloves. “If all you need is a believable reason to like me, Captain, you need look no further than this.” He tucked a stray curl behind his ear and spread his arms, striking a pose that would have been preposterous had Flint not in fact been struck by how _handsome_ the little fucker actually was. The material of his leather jacket and matching pants hugged each line of his body like a glove, showing off the wide shoulders and narrow waist to great advantage. Over the casually unbuttoned collar, Silver’s long neck rose like a proud python, balancing his strangely comely, heart-shaped face.

“You’re pretty used to having people fawn all over you, aren’t you?” Flint finally managed, pulling his mind away from the precipice over which it was dangerously perched.

“We all use whatever leverage we have to survive.”

“How pithy.”

“I was not aiming for pithy.”

“No, I don’t suppose you were.” “This would be a lot easier if you just accepted that we must work together, Captain,” Silver said as the timbre of his voice changed. Gone was the jovial rake and, Flint was getting the distinct feeling, a whole other man appeared in his place, a man who had been lying in wait all along. Which one of them was the real John Silver? “The Maxanor have entrusted me, and by extension you, with a very important mission. The sooner you realize that we’re better off as partners than as rivals, the sooner the mission can be completed and the sooner this charade can end.”

“Good.”

“Fine.” “Great.”

“Fantastic!”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

“I can’t believe you already have another spouse,” Silver concluded, turning his back on Flint and skipping up the ramp into the ferry.

***

The _Walrus_ buzzed like a veritable beehive, the familiar hum of the engines and the gravity field activators greeting Flint like old friends. Nassau was always supposed to have been a temporary home for everyone, that much had been obvious from the beginning. There was only so long that a single rebel space station could hold out against the Imperial Alliance, especially as cut off from the rest of civilized society as they were, reliant solely on rogue ships like Flint’s to hunt for their supplies across the galaxy. The dead star they’d been orbiting was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a long term solution. Everyone knew, though they hardly ever spoke of it, that Nassau was not the answer: it was a question, barely beginning to be asked.

Perhaps, it was Max who had been able to sum it up best: Nassau was just space, it could not love you back. Flint and Eleanor had attempted to turn that hunk of metal into a home, knowing none of them could return to what had once been Earth’s colonies and had since become the legacy of a planet long gone along with everyone who had stayed behind on it, whether out of hubris or bereft of choice. Terra, Chikyu, Erde: the Imperial Alliance had gobbled up everything in its path and now stretched its greedy fingers out towards new, unexplored galaxies, hoping to steal that which it could not produce. In that regard, the raiders of Nassau were no different from the people who had oppressed them. Everybody stole. Everybody died. There was no point in getting sentimental about anything.

So, if Nassau was nothing but space, it was the _Walrus_ that had been Flint’s home. It was with an understandable amount of resentment then that he walked through the doors of his control room with a grinning John Silver in tow. His home had been invaded. He was no longer the captain of his own destiny.

“Jupiter’s moons, Captain!” Gates had noticed him first. “I’d damn near given the command to undock, thinking the Maxanor had really gone and spaced you this time!”

“Sorry,” Flint muttered at the assembled crew. “I was unexpectedly held up.”

“Captain,” a tall and meticulously groomed crewman approached, eyeing both Flint and Silver up and down with a calculating gaze, “you appear to be accompanied by an organic life form.”

Flint cleared his throat. “Um… about that.”

“Is that a Teuton 426X?” Silver sputtered.

“We call him Billy,” Flint explained indicating the tall android. “He’s an older model, but I find the 400 series to be much more reliable than that newfangled 500 series. Plus, as you can see, he’s been fully upgraded.”

“His guns are _huge_ ,” Silver nodded and extended his arm towards the android’s bulging bicep.

“Do not touch Billy,” Billy stated, deftly moving Silver’s probing hand away. “Billy doesn’t know you. Identify yourself.”

“Go ahead, baby doll, identify yourself,” Flint said, giving Silver his biggest smile. “Tell everyone who you are, shnookums, speak up.” Perhaps, Flint thought, there was a way to be a prisoner on his own ship _and_ still enjoy himself.

“ _Shnookums_?” Silver hissed under his breath and immediately wrapped his arm around Flint’s waist. “My name is John Silver, and I just spent the last five days making such sweet love to your Captain Flint over here, he simply had to make an honest man out of me.”

“That’d be the day,” Flint whispered into Silver’s ear. His ears, incidentally, were - in a word - ridiculous. Now that they were so close, Flint could take the opportunity to admire what passed for ear jewelry with the kids those days. Specifically, Silver wore metal tips over the shell of his ear, that narrowed into points that could only be described as elven. He sincerely hoped Silver wasn’t one of those freakazoids who also split their tongues into points like a serpent or had an artificial tail attached for kinks. Not that he really needed to be contemplating his tongue _or_ his ass at the moment.

“What exactly does that mean?” Gates stepped up, moving Billy out of the way to size Silver up himself.

“We got hitched,” Silver explained. “You know, married. Wedded bliss. Does your ship have a honeymoon suite, babe?” he asked, turning towards Flint.

“It’s true,” Flint concurred rather morosely. “He’s my husband. I am not without human foibles.”

“ _Foibles_ ,” Gates repeated, his eyes seeming to traverse the galaxy having crawled out of their orbs. “Does Miranda know?”

“I will have a word with Miranda.”

“You do have all the best words,” Silver purred right into Flint’s ear while batting his eyelashes.

“In the meantime,” Flint attempted with as much heft as he could, “just… treat him as if he were an extension of me.” His hand deliberately settled over the top of Silver's tight, leather pants, thumb hooked over the waistband in a rather familiar way.

“You mean question everything he says and keep him out of the armory when he’s drunk?” Billy inquired.

“Who increased the android’s sass levels again?” Flint cast about with exasperation, removing his thumb from Silver's pants where it had become incredibly warm. “Was it you, Joji?” The man Flint had addressed merely shrugged mutely and returned to sharpening his Chikyu provenance steel. “Hal?” Flint narrowed his eyes, staring down his quartermaster. “I know you think of him as a son, which is a little weird, but I’m not currently in a position to judge.”

“I didn’t muck about with his sass levels, Captain. That’s just how Billy is - honest and loyal to a fault.”

Flint didn’t feel very convinced. The last thing he needed, under the circumstances, was an android who was overly suspicious and asked too many questions.

“Be that as it may, sweetcheeks here is my husband, so you know… I have this well in hand. Er…” Flint flushed. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“You’re a consummate thespian,” Silver whispered. “But go easy on the ridiculous pet names, for fuck’s sakes.”

“Honeycakes and I will now retire to the bedchamber,” Flint pronounced. “And you if hear a lot of banging noise coming out of my quarters, well, you’ll know why.”

“You literally have zero chill,” Silver said under his breath and added louder, “It was great meeting you all! I really look forward to our future voyages together.”

Flint’s transponder beeped at him angrily. _If you do anything to hurt Max’s brother, I will personally space your balls._ He clicked the text off the screen and cast a look through one of the portholes towards the metal carcass of Nassau and the palpable fumes of Eleanor’s fury.

“Mr. DeGroot,” he ordered, “set the course for the Hadriatic cluster.”

He turned, ostentatiously placing his hand on the small of Silver’s back before subtly pushing him out the door. He typed his reply message for Eleanor as they walked towards his quarters.

_What if he’s into it?_

***

“You’re not locking me in your fucking room!” Silver protested.

“Betsy,” Flint said without flinching, “Lock and arm the door after I leave.”

“Who the fuck is Betsy!”

“Our Computerized Aggression Tool.”

“Oh, of course, you’d have a fucking CAT.”

“Stay here, don’t break anything,” Flint said with a complacent grin as he stepped back from the door and watched as the ship’s computer clicked all the locks into place.

He took a bracing breath to clear his head. For the first time in five days, Flint noticed his hand was trembling. He opened and closed his fist slowly, painfully aware of the stiffness and swelling in his joints and the splotches of purple and red around his knuckles. Vane’s face had been harder than it looked.

He’d found Miranda in her quarters, sitting with her back towards the door on a meditation cushion, with her portable keyboard in her lap and deaf to the world with a set of enormous headphones that nearly dwarfed her head. Mindful not to startle her, Flint carefully stepped into the periphery of her vision.

She startled anyways. The keyboard went flying in one direction, the headphones in the opposite direction, and then Miranda was throwing herself like a lodestone around Flint’s neck and dragging him down onto the cushions.

“James! You absolute asshole, James! I thought for sure the Maxanor had at the very least thrown you into Tartarus by now.”

He drew closer and allowed himself the comfort of her embrace, of her scent that still managed to retain a drop of Terran mystique, the warmth of her body that pulsated against him. “Oh come on, Miranda,” he muttered softly into her neck, “You know Eleanor and I go too far back for her to waste me so egregiously.”

“You pummelled her special pet captain into dust,” Miranda reminded him.

“Eh.” Flint lifted up his bruised and battered hand. “You should see the other guy.”

Miranda pressed her lips to the swollen knuckles. “Poor dear. So unfairly put upon.”

“I had to defend your honor,” Flint said, tucking a loose lock of Miranda’s hair behind her ear. He was very glad Miranda had never taken to the fashion of wearing goddamn ear tips, unlike _some_ people.

“You defended my tea cups’ honor, James.”

“They’re good tea cups. Someone should be willing to defend them.”

“You’ve been fishing for an excuse to punch Vane for years now.”

“Eleanor only likes him for how he looks out of uniform! He’s a useless twat! When’s the last time his crew actually did any _raiding_?”

“You sound like a petulant child. Don’t give them a reason to put you in the corner.”

“They forced me to get married,” Flint finally declared with a pronounced pout.

“Beg pardon?”

“They gave me a chaperone, Miranda. And forced me to marry his thieving ass as a cover, so I can explain his presence on this ship to the crew!”

“You… _what_?”

Flint sighed and cupped her face with both hands. “He’s a plant, Miranda.”

“I am getting a definitive feeling he’s most definitely a man and not a plant?”

“It’s Max’s fucking brother,” Flint said with exasperation, letting her go.

“John Silver?” Miranda was rubbing her temples. It filled Flint with unwanted schadenfreude that his horrid migraine was being transferred. “He’s very handsome,” Miranda stated quite matter-of-factly. “In that roguish way.”

“What the fuck difference does that make!” Flint all but shouted. “He’s a thief! And a spy! And I don’t want him on my ship!”

“James..,” Miranda’s hands were on his chest, the familiar gesture of trying to soothe the savage beast, “slow down. What exactly did they say?” She drew him towards a small, round table, with a self-boiling tea kettle that sat on a doily of Erdean silk. “Come, sit. And tell me everything.”

***

Being with Miranda was always a soothing balm poured down the pit of despair that was Flint’s soul. She knew his basest instincts and could always wield them to her advantage, so it was a testament to the strength of her character that she did not. Not since the day they both stood, bloodied and gasping for air, over the corpse of Alfred Hamilton and the crew of his Imperial transport ship. They had allowed the beast to be unleashed that day, in the wake of their shared horror and helplessness. They had killed with no remorse, with no shame, and with no going back.

Terra had been a dream that someone had conjured up on Earth. A dream of a utopia that, when it came down to it, had been nothing but a fantasy. The arc of the moral universe did not bend towards justice, as someone on the dead mother planet once said, nor did its pendulum swing towards equality. Between the radical right and the radical left, it did not leave a whole lot for those stuck in the middle, dying to make sense of it all.

And yet, there had been moments of beauty on Terra, on Chikyu, on Erde. Moments of manmade beauty as well as natural beauty. Moments of a shared experience that Flint might have called “universal” had he not grown to think of the universe as a malevolent force out to devour them all.

“Betsy, unlock and disarm the door,” Flint said as he stood before his quarters. The door slid open and Flint took a step back instead of forward. “What the fuck?”

Instead of the room as he left it, the interior had opened up into a lush green garden, full of trimmed hedges and shady alleyways lined with gurgling fountains.

Flint took a tentative step inside and called out, “Silver!” A hedge of bushes parted to his left and a face he’d been itching to punch peeked out of the thicket. “What the fuck have you done to my quarters?”

Topiary and waterworks lined the space in front of him as far as the eye could see.

“Well,” Silver spoke as the rest of his body materialized from the bushes, “you didn’t exactly leave me with a lot to do in here. Luckily, Betsy proved to be a lot more accommodating than I’d expected from a CAT.”

“How the fuck did you manage to activate the alternate reality simulator?”

“I… hacked it?” Silver grinned with a small shrug.

“You hacked the CAT?”

“Only a little. And besides, you have to admit,” Silver gestured around the garden, “it’s quite nice in here. Come on,” he motioned for Flint to follow him back through the hedge, “let me show you something.”

On the other side of the hedge, Flint found himself underneath a sturdy, old oak, reaching up towards the sky where a simulated sun cast its rays down through the foliage. A narrow park bench that now served as a swing was suspended from one of the sturdier branches, hidden beneath the thick canopy.

Despite his desire to appear unmoved, Flint asked, “What is this place?”

“It’s a hidden garden I found in an Imperial park on Erde,” Silver said with a wistful look as he placed his hands against the bark of the tree trunk. “I was running away from… a number of people, and I took a gamble in cutting across the trimmed hedges. I hid here… there… waiting, holding my breath until they had lost my trail. Luckily, they don't keep dogs on Erde.” Silver walked over to the swinging bench and plopped down upon it, one leg folded under himself. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It’s not bad,” Flint admitted grudgingly.

“We don’t have trees like this on Nassau,” Silver said and smiled, adding, “Well, we don’t really have _any_ trees on Nassau, do we?”

“Can’t really do any kind of terraforming without actual soil,” Flint replied.

“Right,” Silver said, his hand idly catching on the leaves drooping from a low-hanging branch. “Do you miss it?”

“What?” “Terra.”

Flint closed his eyes, his mind summoning up images in rapid succession. The icy floes on Lake Albion. The floral terraces of Luna. The two orange moons that burned in the night sky. Thomas had said once that Flint’s hair had reminded him of the flaming moons. He shook those thoughts away before they turned from halcyon to hellish.

“I don’t miss it,” Flint replied. “It was never what it should have been.”

“And what was that?”

“Home.”

“Hm,” Silver let out. He brushed a lock of hair out of his eye and tucked it behind his ear, once again exposing the ridiculous elf adornment. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he patted the bench next to him.

“Not tired.”

“Now, that can’t be true. I don’t think you’ve slept since you were let out of your cell in Tartarus.”

“Tartarus was a goddamn staycation,” Flint retorted. “No crew, no worries, no _spouses_.”

“Oh yeah?” Silver grinned. “Well, if it was so relaxing, how come you look so tense?”

“I do not,” Flint said, plopping down onto the bench next to Silver. “See? The picture of relaxation.”

Silver’s hand was on Flint’s upper back, fingers pressing into the muscles connecting to his shoulder. “Interesting,” Silver smirked. “Because all I feel is just one huge tension knot.” And his thumb dug into Flint’s flesh, causing him to roll his eyes into the back of his head and let out an involuntary moan.

“You… _shit_.”

“I can stop,” Silver teased, his hand hovering just over the skin of Flint’s neck, still radiating warmth like some sort of a reactor. “Or I can keep going.”

“Why do you even care if I’m tense?”

“Well,” Silver sighed, “I do have to at some point relay an order to you from the Maxanor. And I have a feeling you’d be a lot more receptive to taking orders if you were feeling more at ease. About the situation. About us?”

“There _is_ no us.”

“Ah, but there is. I was there, so were you. We made vows.”

“Vows made under duress are null and void.”

“And we can annul them later, but right now…” “I know, I know,” Flint groaned. “We have to work together to fulfill this fucking mission. _God_. How are you such a fucking nuisance?”

“Look at you finishing my sentences!” the little pest proclaimed with a shit-eating grin. “Soon you and I will be just as inseparable as the Maxanor.” Flint wasn’t going to laugh so he bit his lip to catch himself. “Now, do you want me to give you a massage, or what? I promise I won’t touch anything below the waist, you fucking prude.”

Flint’s shoulders and neck did feel tighter than a noose. “Fine,” he acceded, “but first you’re turning my room back into… my fucking room.”

“You truly have no sense of wonder,” Silver declared and leapt down from the swing. “Betsy, cancel program. Overwrite to default and erase memory.”

“Don’t talk to my CAT that way.”

Silver stretched. It was only then that Flint noticed he’d divested himself of his leather jacket and was now wearing nothing but a threadbare tank top that barely left anything to the imagination. It shifted and rode just high enough in the back while Silver did his calisthenics to expose two dimples right above the swell of his asscheeks and a hint of ink over his right flank. Flint did his best to avert his eyes.

As the program faded around them, Flint found himself sitting on his own bed, surrounded by nothing more than the hum of the _Walrus_ ’ engines and a collection of miniature trees he’d liberated one time from an Imperial cargo ship traveling from Chikyu across the Hadriatic cluster. A sudden discomfort made Flint’s neck flush as he imagined Silver scrutinizing the contents of his quarters.

“You couldn’t have just hacked my electronic library or something?” Flint muttered, to cover up his sudden embarrassment.

“That would’ve been a gross invasion of your privacy,” Silver replied and pointed down upon the bed where Flint was seated. “Lie down. On your back.”

“My back?”

“Something tells me you won’t be presenting your ass to me so easily,” Silver chuckled. “Not yet, anyways.”

“ _God_ , you’re a dick,” Flint mumbled, nevertheless doing as he was told. He was fairly sure that when the Maxanor told him to obey Silver’s orders, submitting to a massage was probably far from their minds. And yet, as he stretched his tired limbs out on the firm mattress, he could not shake the feeling that this was all a game that he was only too happy to play. Notwithstanding that he did not know the rules.

Silver scrambled onto the bed, positioning himself behind and over Flint’s head so that his thighs were on either side of Flint’s shoulders. “Do you need something to cover your eyes?” Silver asked, his voice shockingly low and soothing.

“Hell no,” Flint replied.

“Most people prefer to have them closed,” Silver pointed out. “But if you want to watch my face while I…”

“Fine,” Flint spat out, shutting his eyes with more violence than the act strictly speaking required.

“Now, just try to relax while I do this,” Silver uttered in a languid purr as his hands slid underneath Flint’s shoulder blades and his knuckles dragged up on either side of his spine. Flint let out an embarrassing whimper, clenching his jaw against the creeping onslaught of pleasure. “It’s all right,” Silver whispered, “let it go. Let me take care of you.”

“If I fall asleep, will you murder me?” Flint hummed, barely moving his lips, while his body sank deeper into the mattress and Silver’s powerful grip. Silver’s hands must have been the size of dinner plates, and they seemed to move across Flint’s shoulders and span his upper back like a pair of wings.

“Being a young widower was never on my bucket list,” Silver replied.

Silver’s thumbs pressed into ligaments on either side of Flint’s neck, filling him with simultaneous pain and relief as they slid along muscles so tight they may as well have been rocks. Flint moaned once more, against his better judgement.

“When’s the last time you took some time out for yourself?” Silver asked conversationally, thumbs traversing Flint’s clavicles and pressing into the sinews along his chest. _Fuck_ , that was tense too. “You’re going to hurt yourself next time you have to engage in armed combat. Or do you usually just do your raiding remotely, without boarding?”

“We board,” Flint snorted. “And I do quite fine in armed combat, thanks. I’ll take you right now if you wanna go.”

“You’re really bad at this,” Silver mused, manhandling Flint’s head with one of his giant paws until it was turned sideways and nosing into his thigh. His thumb slid down from a point on the base of Flint’s skull, along the sinews of his neck, and back into the juncture of his shoulder.

Flint moaned again, “And you’re really good at _this_. Why are you so good at this?”

“My sister and I,” Silver replied quietly, continuing his ministrations, “learned at a very young age that pleasure was a fast way to turn men from violence.”

Flint twitched beneath his touch. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“No need to be.”

“You don’t have to do this if you’re just afraid I’ll hurt you,” he said, eyes flying open to stare into the dark blue hovering over him. He hadn’t noticed earlier the color of Silver’s eyes. He had not seen such a hue of azure since he’d left Terra.

“I’m not handling you, if that’s your worry.”

“But that’s your job,” Flint pointed out. Silver’s hands halted in their path, but their warmth remained, solid and burning against Flint’s skin.

“Let’s just both sleep on it,” Silver said, pulling away so suddenly that Flint felt whipped by a cold wind. “Tomorrow, I can tell you what we want you to do.”

“Why not tonight?” Flint asked.

“You’re too relaxed right now,” Silver smiled. “I’d hate to be taking advantage of you in such a weakened state.”

 _I thought that was the point_ , Flint was about to say, but something made him hold his tongue. And the truth of the matter was, he _was_ too relaxed. And he hadn’t slept in days. He was only mildly annoyed that Silver had figured that out, as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hadriatic cluster had been a popular hunting ground for raiders for years. The field of debris that was essentially the leftovers of a long-dead planet was used for mining ore by the Imperial Alliance in the beginning, and thus still had a number of fueling stations that made the route a popular one with the Imperial fleet. It was dangerous enough to maneuver through the floating rocks that any captain would think twice before following a raider down that corridor of disaster; it had been something Flint’s crew had taken advantage of on more than one occasion.

Flint had ordered Gates to head to the cluster to avoid any further questions or suspicions on behalf of the crew, and in the absence of a real plan, it seemed the reasonable thing to do. Leave Nassau and the ever-watchful eye of the Maxanor behind. To the extent he could, which is to say he was also painfully aware of taking a part of that eye with him.

Silver was gone when Flint awoke. If he had slept at all, Flint could not discern, as his quarters did not bear any telltale signs of even so much as Silver's presence there. 

The atomic clock that told them day from night in the first place informed Flint that it was “morning,” all of it being purely symbolic when you were out in deep space. They had only used the atomic clocks to stay sane. Flint could not remember the last time he’d felt the rays of a sun on his face that wasn’t simulated. When the Empire had spread onwards from Terra to Chikyu and Erde, the Terran calendar was implemented across the three planets. Time, therefore, had always been Terran and always relative. 

Rubbing his eyes, Flint rolled out of bed, chafing at his clothes. He needed a bath, but he supposed that was a luxury that would have to wait. Instead, he’d rummaged through his drawers, pulling out his thigh holster and slipping his blaster into it. Betsy had informed him they had been parked behind a giant floating landmass in the cluster for the better part of the last hour, so he strapped the holster on, unfurled his back with a languid stretch, and headed out to the control room. The crew needed to be reminded who was in command of the damned ship. He could no longer afford to be distracted with goddamn massages, for fuck’s sakes.

He did not quite make it to the control room, as his attention was diverted by the sound of laughter and the smell of freshly brewed kava emanating from the mess hall. Peeking in, he spotted Silver’s mop of curly hair leaning over the table next to Miranda, who had been smiling and laughing at whatever it was he’d been telling her. Flint frowned and folded his arms across his chest while taking in the scene. Miranda, whom he hadn’t seen this jovial in years, was toying with her hair and playfully touching Silver’s arm while he regaled her with what Flint was certain were tales of epic bullshit. Oh, for the love of… they were _flirting_.

“Ahem!” he cleared his throat, startling them both.

“Good morning, James!” Miranda called out happily. “Good morning, dear,” Silver echoed. “I was just getting to know the third component of our little ménage.” He winked at Miranda and Flint ached to pluck out his errant eye. “Sleep well?”

“James, you did not tell me John was such a charmer,” Miranda said while she sipped her kava. “I have not laughed this hard since that day Jack Rackham hacked Billy’s controls and cranked his sass levels so high that he started speaking Russian!”

“For a dead language, it certainly is quite colorful,” Silver chimed in. “Would you like a cup of kava, my sweet?”

“What?” Flint growled. He probably could use a kava injection, his brain was not keeping up with the goings on.

“I remember an old tutor of mine who had insisted that ‘to sit on a cock and eat a bird’ was the Russian equivalent of ‘having your cake and eating it too’,” Silver said as an aside to Miranda. “Of course by then there was no way to verify this. I mean, who even knows what _cake_ is anymore!”

“It’s a sweet pastry that people used to eat at birthday parties on Terra in the early days of the colonization,” Flint replied as gruffly as he could, while he took the proffered cup out of Silver’s fingers.

“I think I’d rather sit on a cock and eat a bird,” Silver replied with a shrug and again Flint found himself biting his lips. The annoyance _was_ kind of charming, in that absolutely horrible way that was in no way attractive. Nope.

“You were supposed to tell me something,” Flint whispered, insinuating himself onto the bench directly in between Silver and Miranda. “The orders from the Maxanor. I fell asleep last night…”

“Are you sure now is the best time?” Silver asked, looking askance at Miranda. “Whatever orders you have for me, you are free to deliver them in front of her,” Flint said.

“James and I hide nothing from each other,” Miranda added. Her fingers stroked soothing lines up and down James’ back and he relaxed into her touch. But good gods, he was predictable, if this was all it took to soothe him! He flushed, thinking back at how easily he had melted under Silver’s touch the night before, and avoided both their eyes.

“There’s an Alliance vessel,” Silver began to speak quietly. “An explorer designation. _Urca de Lima_. Have you heard of her?”

“Right,” Flint replied, “she’s been known to carry valuable commodities, and usually travels with a heavily armed escort. What of her?”

“We need to take her.” “Take her?” Flint almost laughed. “You should’ve told me this would be a suicide mission, I would’ve asked the Maxanor to spare me the effort and space me.”

“I have traveled for years now,” Silver spoke quickly, as if the shadows of his past were still chasing him, “looking for the answer to a very obvious question. Now, I cannot tell you what lies at the end of this journey, but I can tell you that if we do not capture that explorer, there will _be_ no journey. The _Urca_ is carrying a treasure more priceless than anything your mind can conceive.”

“Is that what you expect me to tell the crew?”

“Yes,” Silver replied. “And another thing. There were complications during their last mission, and as a result the _Urca_ will be traveling without her usual armed guard. And I know her route by heart.”

“Even without a guard, we’ll be outgunned,” Flint snapped. “That explorer has more firepower than we do. The only thing we’ve got on her is maneuverability.”

“And the element of surprise,” Silver cut in. “She will not see you coming. The _Urca_ ’s routes are protected, only the Admiralty headquarters on Chikyu know when and where she’ll arrive.”

“And are we to believe that you just happened to have this information?” Miranda asked. “The most heavily guarded battlestation in the Empire, and you… what exactly did you do?”

“I hacked it.”

“What?” both Flint and Miranda said in unison.

“Why do you think there is a warrant out for my arrest on two planets? Three, as soon as Terra processes the paperwork, they're a bit bureaucratic over there.”

“Because you’re a thief!” Flint exclaimed.

“You’re right,” Silver shrugged. “I am a thief. But what I stole are the _Urca_ ’s coordinates and schedule. So, are you going to come along and take her or do I have to report back to the Maxanor that Captain Flint is afraid of a little action?”

“Tell me what she’s carrying.”

“No.”

Flint rose, his blood boiling to the surface like lava. He grabbed Silver by the collar of his leather jacket and slammed him against the wall of the mess hall. “Tell me what she’s fucking carrying or I space you right the fuck now,” he hissed in Silver’s face. “What’s so important that it’s worth risking your own and all our lives for, huh?”

“James…” Miranda’s light touch was ghosting across his back again. “James, please. You’re supposed to be in love with him…”

“Captain,” the sound of Gates’ voice over the coms brought Flint to his senses. He loosened his grip on Silver and took a step back, letting the other man slump against the wall. “There was a glitch in the navigational system. We drifted off course and into the meteor belt.”

“Get Billy on it,” Flint barked out. “And get Randall to have a look at the CAT. She might have been… tampered with,” he added with a derisive look in Silver’s direction.

“That’s not all, Captain.” Gates sounded about as comfortable as Flint felt. “While we were afloat, we’ve been caught in another raider’s trapping beam. They’re hailing us now.”

“Will the fucking bad news never end,” Flint mumbled and stalked out of the mess towards the control room, breathing literal and figurative fire in his wake.

***

“Have you made out their designation?” Flint asked, approaching the controls. 

Billy, one of whose appendages was connected into a fuse box, opened his eyes and Flint could actually hear his gears clicking into place as he attempted to answer the question.

“She carries the designation of the _Maroon Queen_ ,” the android replied.

“We have no trouble with the maroons,” Flint muttered. “Open coms!”

The screen flickered to life and a woman’s face came into sharp focus. “Raider vessel, what is your business here?” she asked. 

“Our ship drifted off course. We seek no trouble with you,” Flint responded.

“Whom am I addressing?” the woman asked.

“My name is Flint and I might ask you the same question. By whose authority are you holding my ship in your trapping beam?”

“My name is Madi,” the woman replied. “I am captain of the _Maroon Queen_ and I am holding you on my own authority.”

“Madi?” Silver’s voice sounded behind Flint as he approached to stand by his side. 

“John?” the captain of the maroon ship asked and Flint twitched.

“How the fuck do you know her?” he whispered aside to Silver.

“She’s my ex,” Silver whispered back.

“Any chances it ended well?” Flint prodded. Silver grimaced. “Great,” Flint sighed. 

“What business do you have in our territories and with John Silver in tow?” the woman, Madi, inquired. Even across the screen, Flint noted the change in her stance; there went their hope for a peaceful resolution.

“We weren’t in your territories,” Flint said as calmly as he could, which was rather more on the irate side. “We were lying in wait for Imperial cargo ships in the Hadriatic cluster. A glitch in our computer made us drift off course,” he ground his teeth against the word _glitch_. “As I said, we have no business with the maroons.”

“Well, actually…” Silver started.

“Shut up,” Flint cut him off.

“Listen, Madi…” Silver insinuated himself in front of Flint. “You look beautiful by the way, and that coat is badass. How have you been?”

“ _Wrathful_ comes to mind,” Madi replied, markedly not amused.

“You’re not helping,” Flint hissed.

“That’s understandable,” Silver continued undeterred. “And when you and I get on solid ground together again, I swear I’m gonna let you kick my ass. But right now we’re sort of in the middle of a war, a war in which, incidentally, your people and ours are natural allies.”

“You betrayed me,” Madi stated coldly. “You made a deal with the Empire behind my back.” “In my defense, it only _seemed_ like a betrayal because you did not have all the pertinent information at hand.”

“Which was?”

“That I loved you and I didn’t want to see you die!”

“ _Gods_ ,” Flint groaned behind Silver. “You are a human disaster, truly.” He shook his head and moved Silver out of the way, “Listen, Captain… Madi? If you let our crew go, we’ll gladly hand this one over and be on our way.”

“You utter wanker, I’m your husband!” Silver flared up and once more pushed Flint out of the way to address the screen. “He’s joking. We’re newlyweds. You know how… love games and all that.”

“You betrayed me and the next time I see you, I learn you are married to a raider captain,” Madi said, most definitely not buying into Silver’s feeble charms. “And you’re traversing into our territory where you damn well know you’re not welcome. Now, why exactly should I not simply blow your ship to smithereens?”

“Because I can offer you something that your people have always wanted!” Silver exclaimed quickly.

There was a moment of silence on the other side and then Madi’s face came back on screen. “What is it?”

“I’ll tell you if you let me come aboard.”

“No way,” Flint hissed. “What makes you think I trust you enough to let you parlay with these people on our behalf?”

Silver turned and placed his hands on both Flint’s shoulders, speaking very closely into his ear. “To hunt the _Urca_ we’ll need more firepower. Madi’s people are well armed. We could really use the backup, you said so yourself.”

“And what are you promising them in return?”

“A part of what’s on that explorer.”

“The treasure beyond my wildest dreams?”

“That’s right. A future.”

“You’re insane.”

“ _Trust me_ ,” Silver whispered, his breath scalding the side of Flint’s face.

Flint shifted away and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You’re making things very difficult for me, Silver.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Silver stated with a cocky grin.

“ _How_?”

“I’m a man of many talents. And hey, we haven’t even consummated our marriage yet.”

“You’re not fucking serious.”

“Silver alone has permission to come aboard,” Madi’s voice resounded from the screen.

“Thank you!” Silver beamed.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Madi replied. “If I do not like what you have to say, I will pulverize this ship into dust and hand you over to the Imperial Authority.”

Flint sighed. His hand itched for his transponder. He wanted nothing more in the world than to send Eleanor a very clear message. 

_I fucking hate you right now._

***

Flint suspected locking himself in his quarters for the duration of Silver’s “negotiation” with the maroons wasn’t a viable solution. So, he didn’t even bat an eyelash when Hal Gates barged in, rubbing his own bald skull the way a man with one last wish would rub a fucking genie lamp.

“You’re actually married to him!” Gates puffed. “I mean, I knew you were into men, so don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t think you’d let a piece of young tail turn your head like that! And I really thought you’d been blowing smoke when you first got back here from Tartarus, or whatever the hell you’d been doing on Nassau, but I had Billy access the legal archives back on the space station, and there it bloody is, isn’t it? Signed by the High Commander herself! A marriage certificate!”

“Are you done?” Flint asked, looking entirely bored as he sprawled on his bed.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, right? This marriage - it isn’t _real_ , is it?”

“Now you’re just contradicting yourself, Hal, old friend. You said a mere second ago that you’d found legal proof that it was.”

“Right, but you’re playing some angle here? You’re always playing some angle!”

“I really don’t like you speaking about my spouse that way,” Flint said. “It shows a certain amount of disrespect, don’t you think? Not to mention, your aspersions would imply that I’m hiding something from the crew.”

“ _Are_ you hiding something from the crew?”

“Well _of course_ I’m hiding something from the crew!”

“Then you’re not actually married!”

“No, we are.”

Hal needed to sit down. He collapsed in an armchair across from Flint and rubbed the back of his head again.

“Listen, Hal,” Flint started, taking pity on his old quartermaster, “believe me, if I could explain the situation to your satisfaction, I would. For now, my best advice would be to stay the course.”

“That maroon captain has the firepower to vaporize our ship and our fate rests entirely on your _husband_ ’s ability to convince them otherwise. Forgive me if I do not find your reassurances particularly reassuring at the moment.”

Flint was about to make a clever retort when his door opened and Miranda walked in, plopping upon the bed next to him.

“You don’t think they’re hurting that boy, do you?” she asked, slowly twirling the end of her braid around her finger. 

“Miranda, you’re an angel,” Gates said with a shake of his head. “But right now your concern seems misplaced.” He looked upwards, as if seeking heavenly guidance and added, “I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

“Tell the crew to chill,” Flint intoned.

“Right, I’ll just open up the last stash of our kikion then?”

“When in doubt…” Flint gestured vaguely. Kikion would make the entire crew too obliterated to operate the ship. On the other hand, if they were going to die because John Silver was a ridiculous man who wore ridiculous ear jewelry and betrayed his past lovers, well then they might as well leave this world in a good mood.

Flint shut his eyes. Helplessness was a new concept for him. As a matter of principle, he’d accepted his own mortality long ago, but he would tear out with his teeth the throat of anyone who’d dared threaten Miranda’s life, so their current predicament left his teeth aching.

“What do you think is on that ship that is so important they’d risk Max’s own brother’s life to get it?” Miranda whispered while her fingers gently brushed against Flint’s chest. He put his hand over hers, halting its movement. Her hand was cold.

“A future,” Flint repeated Silver’s words.

What did it even mean anymore? What kind of future could they possibly have, all of them, strewn about the galaxy like the debris of the Hadriatic cluster. Lost children of a long-dead planet.

A jolt made both Flint and Miranda sit up. “Betsy, status report!”

“We are no longer held by the _Maroon Queen_ ’s trapping beam, Captain,” the CAT declared.

That’s when the door slid open again and Silver leaned with a complacent grin against Flint’s wall. “Greetings, my love. I told you I was a hard man not to like.”

***

According to Silver, who as always knew much more than he was letting on, their window of opportunity for hunting the _Urca_ was closing. Having the support of Madi’s people was a stroke of luck, but it still left the crews with less than a Terran week to gather the necessary supplies and set course to intercept the explorer.

To give him credit where credit was due, Silver was a consummate and effective bullshitter, and Flint meant that as a compliment, as someone who considered himself a bit of a connoisseur of bullshittery. In particular, in less than two days he’d managed to get the entire crew wrapped around his finger to the point that they were more likely to follow his command than either Flint’s or Gates’. He knew everyone’s name and work station, where they were born and the general gist of their history prior to coming to Nassau. It was as if he’d had a folio prepared on each member of the crew. Come to think of it, he probably did. 

_I hacked it._ Flint could not reconcile this thought with the man who’d refused to infiltrate his electronic library. And yet, there was very little other explanation for Silver’s ability to manipulate and bend everyone to his will. It was their minds that were hacked.

The preparations had kept them both busy and blessedly apart, allowing Flint to spend more time in training with Miranda, whose hand-to-hand fighting skills with the blade and the staff had grown to match his own over the years. Making a final round of the ship before retiring for the night, Flint paused before the entrance to his own quarters. Keeping up pretenses had meant that he and Silver had been sharing the room since his arrival upon the _Walrus_. However, neither one of them had mentioned anything at all about their “arrangements” since Silver’s casual comment before being allowed to come aboard the _Maroon Queen_. Flint had pushed it out of his mind, and yet it niggled at the back of his brain, like an annoying mosquito, buzzing in one’s ear throughout the night.

He was not surprised to discover Silver in the room when he walked in. He was, however, a bit taken aback to find him curled up on his side under the covers in his bed. Usually Silver took the armchair or the rug, one of the pillows tucked between his stretched out arm and his head. That was when Flint had seen him sleep at all, which wasn’t very often. It was as if Silver had trained his body to function on a wholly different circadian rhythm than the rest of them. 

Flint walked up to the bed quietly and knelt by the man’s side. He looked young in repose. Not that Flint had any definitive idea of how old John Silver was, but there was definitely something youthful in his face while he slept, in the slope of his creaseless forehead, the lax curve of his lower lip. A quiet innocence, a sense of vulnerability. Perhaps this was why he had not allowed Flint to see him asleep before, Flint thought. Perhaps he had not allowed _anyone_ to watch him sleep before. A wave of emotion welled up in Flint’s chest, a primal desire to protect the man sleeping in his bed. He reached out to brush the thick curls out of Silver’s face, tucking a clump of hair behind his ear. His fingers brushed over the exposed shell, feeling the velvet soft skin there, unobscured by the ridiculous metallic tips Silver usually wore.

Sweet gods, but his ears were tiny and _adorable_.

Flint drew his hand back as if it had touched fire. The movement must’ve been sudden enough to wake Silver, because his eyes flew open and he jerked back, as if driven by some innate instinct. 

“It’s just me,” Flint said over the beating of his own startled heart.

“That’s not terribly reassuring,” Silver replied with a stretch and a poorly suppressed yawn.

“Are you alright?” Flint asked. “You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”

“Sorry I took the bed,” Silver mumbled. “You weren’t here…”

“It’s fine,” Flint said too fast.

“I can move.” “Don’t.”

“There’s room enough for two,” Silver pointed out, rolling onto his back.

“I’m not tired.” “Why do you always lie about that?”

Flint contemplated the question with an open mouth, already poised for a retort. Because he couldn’t look weak, he supposed. Wasn’t that the same reason Silver never let him see him asleep, too?

“Why do you wear those stupid elven tips?” Flint asked instead.

“I’m too sleepy to be insulted by you right now,” Silver admitted over a wide yawn.

“Your ears look better without them,” Flint added. Okay, well, that sounded ridiculous even to himself. “I mean, your ears look fine. Cute. They’re very cute. _Dammit._ ”

“Lover, you say the sweetest things,” Silver grinned and closed his eyes again. “Do you want to talk?” he asked, as if from a dream. “I mean, we haven’t had a chance to, with all the preparations. I know you must have a million questions for me.”

“Just one, actually,” Flint said. He kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, careful not to jostle Silver too much. Silver had taken up the side further from the wall and Flint tried very hard not to overanalyze that. He also plopped down onto his back, eyes staring into the ceiling as if he was attempting to read his destiny in the overlapping beams. “What’s aboard the _Urca_?”

Silver turned his head. In the dim light of Flint’s quarters, his eyes resembled two galaxies floating in the universe of his face. “Is this the night we tell each other secrets, Captain?”

“I’m not the one with all the secrets,” Flint replied.

“Is that so?”

“If you want to know something about me, just ask,” Flint said, feeling the familiar rage rise up in his esophagus with bile. “You’ve probably already hacked all my records, just like you did with the crew.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I told you, I’m not handling you.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Maxanor respect you. Fuck, _I_ respect you.” There was a beat when Silver blinked, his eyelids obscuring the galaxies of his eyes, and in that moment Flint caught himself missing them. When had Silver played him for a fool? For Flint had no doubt that he’d been had. “You’re not my mark,” Silver said in a way that let Flint know that if he wasn’t his mark, he was on a very short list of people upon whom that particular honor had been bestowed.

“You’re still avoiding my question,” Flint pointed out, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

“What happened to you on Terra?”

“We’re seriously doing this? Quid pro quo?”

“You said it was never a home. What happened to you there? Someone hurt you? And Miranda? You left because you had to protect her? I can see how you are around her.” Silver paused and added more softly, “You love her.”

“Stop,” Flint interrupted the barrage of questions and suppositions that were too close to the truth for comfort. “Don’t go ferreting around in my head. You might not like what you find.”

Silver’s face reflected nothing except a certain fleeting weariness. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, sending his eyelashes into messy clumps, and then blinked up at Flint with resignation.

“The _Urca_ is carrying a map,” Silver said. “A treasure map, you could say. It’s a map of all the habitable planets she’s been able to identify based on data collection over her last expedition.”

“New planets?” Flint propped himself up on one elbow.

“New Nassau,” Silver nodded. “A new home. We can start over. Somewhere far away. No more Imperial Alliance, no more raiding, no more running.” 

“They’ll never let us get away with stealing an entire _planet_ from under their noses,” Flint said. He could not, in good conscience, even believe they were having this discussion. Could he?

“They’ll never be able to find us if we cover our tracks. Once we’ve boarded her and I have the map, I’m going to hack the _Urca_ ’s drives and overwrite everything on them. The Alliance will never even know our planet existed.”

“How do you know she hasn’t transmitted the planetary coordinates to them already?”

“They’d never transmit something this important in open space, where the transmission can be intercepted by anyone. Besides, she won’t even be within transmitting range until she clears the Euxine Nebula. And that’s where we will intercept her.”

Flint was certain he’d have more objections to this insane plan when he was less exhausted. “This is the Maxanor’s plan? Taking over a planet?”

“You can’t build a home in open space, James,” Silver muttered, his eyelids falling heavily over his eyes again. “You said yourself, you can’t terraform something without soil.”

“You’re right,” Flint whispered into the night, “that would be a treasure beyond my wildest dreams.”

Silver’s fingers traced down the line of his arm. “What happened to you on Terra?” he whispered, his breath worrying the side of Flint’s neck. “I heard you and Miranda slaughtered the entire crew of the _Maria Aleyne_ for practically no loot back in the day.”

“You are incredibly well informed.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Silver said through a small yawn that wrinkled his nose. Flint found himself fighting against the urge to reach out and touch it. “I’ll take you to New Nassau with me either way.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“Mhm… we’re family…” Silver muttered as he sank deeper into Flint’s mattress. His breath evened out as he was once again claimed by a heavy sleep.

When Flint was certain Silver could no longer hear him, he said, “You should probably try not to die, in that case.” And then he closed his own eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The Euxine Nebula was empty.

“Scan it again, Billy,” Silver ordered as Flint and Miranda exchanged a look.

“Billy doesn't like you,” the android informed Silver. “You tried to hack Billy.”

“Billy has trust issues,” Flint shrugged.

“First of all, I did not try to hack Billy… you, I did not try to hack _you_! I only hacked the CAT. Second, babe, can you please tell your android to do as I say?”

“Billy and the CAT are as one,” the android said proudly.

“Billy and Betsy? I get it. Cute.” Silver turned to Flint with exasperation. “Tell him to scan the nebula again?”

“I’m just enjoying the fact that someone on my crew actually actively distrusts you,” Flint said, in no hurry to obey.

“Miranda?” Silver turned towards her with a look so pitiful, all big eyes and quivering lips, that Flint didn’t know whether to punch him or to hug him. “Please teach me how to do the conjugal thing with him?”

Miranda laughed and Flint rolled his eyes. “You are ridiculous. And obviously also wrong about the _Urca_ ’s schedule. But _fine_. Billy, please scan the nebula again.”

“Yes, Captain.” The android closed his eyes, his sensors humming with electronic effort. “I do not detect a ship,” Billy finally announced.

Flint, who’d been looking out the porthole, sighed and turned back towards the others. “That’s because they’ve cloaked themselves from scanners.”

“How do you know?” Miranda asked. Flint pointed out the window, “I see them.”

“Behold, the limits of technological science,” Silver pronounced.

“I believe that is what humans call ‘throwing shade’ and I do not appreciate it,” Billy replied.

“Report to battle stations!” Flint commanded. He could not believe that at a moment like this, Silver was sassing with a goddamn AI. “Open hailing frequency, Mr. DeGroot. Let’s give them the opportunity to surrender peacefully.”

“Why? We’re just going to kill them,” Dooley pointed out.

“Well yes, but we don’t want them to know that, do we?” Silver explained. “Remember,” he turned to face the crew, “it is imperative for our mission that we take the _Urca_ whole, not blow her across the galaxy.”

“How did you know they’d be unescorted?” Flint whispered into Silver’s (blessedly unadorned) ear.

“Intel.”

“Intel. Right. You’re a wellspring of information.”

“We have people in places. _Gods_ , did you really think this entire time that you were Eleanor’s only asset?”

“Can we concentrate on _this_ and do marital squabbling later?” Gates suggested.

“Their shields are up and they’re charging their weapons,” Billy reported.

“Open coms to the _Maroon Queen_ ,” Flint barked out. “Have their captain fire a warning shot across the _Urca_ ’s nose. Let them know we’re not alone.” Flint fired one command after another. “Mr. DeGroot, take us across her shield while the maroons distract her.”

“You’re using Madi as bait?” Silver frowned.

“ _Babycakes_ ,” Flint hissed. “I’m on this mission for one reason and one reason alone: the Maxanor know I get shit done. Now sit down and watch me do what you dragged my ass out here to do.”

The _Walrus_ , for all her might, was a relatively small raider vessel. Compared to the sheer behemoth that was the explorer _Urca de Lima_ , they were ideally sized to slip through her deflection shield, as long as her guns weren’t directly honed in on them.

“Billy, can you establish a link with their computer?” Flint asked as the ship maneuvered past several rockets that exploded behind them. “Output only.”

“Uplink established, Captain.”

“Betsy! Deploy Nightraider.”

“What’s Nightraider?” Silver asked.

“A virus that’s going to compromise their gateways.”

“Why not compromise more than their gateways?”

“I thought you wanted to get on board and find the map?”

“Gateways are good.”

“Mr. Gates!” Flint shouted. “I want the vanguard ready to deploy as soon as we dock.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Gear up, dollface,” Flint smirked at Silver.

“You mean we actually have to fight them?”

“Well, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen?”

***

Silver, it turned out, didn’t entirely suck at killing people, Flint had to grant him that. Of course, if he’d had the opportunity to train him as he’d trained Miranda, his hand-to-hand combat skills would be significantly less embarrassing, but for all that, he was scrappy and not afraid to get his hands dirty. His hands, which at the moment were dripping with some poor Imperial goon’s blood.

“Ugh…. help,” Silver proclaimed somewhat pathetically as they stood over a half a dozen fresh corpses, littering the floor of the _Urca_ ’s control room. “I need… my hands…?”

Flint had bent down and pulled at a scarf tied around the neck of one of the fallen crewmen. He threw it towards Silver. “Here, wipe.”

“Who would’ve thought the old man had so much blood in him, huh?”

“Did you just quote archaic Earth lit?”

“Maybe,” Silver replied coyly. Flint mentally thanked him for not pointing out he'd been the one to recognize it.

He’d walked over to the control panel and began pushing buttons quicker than Flint’s eyes had the ability to follow. Those damned hands and their many hidden skills. Flint shook his head and turned back towards his crew to deliver a few more orders.

“Take anything useful you can find and let’s transfer it back to the ships. Miranda, you should check out what they have in medical. Howell will appreciate a restock. Joji, go with her.”

“I don’t need a chaperone,” Miranda said, one of her blasters propped up against her shoulder, still giving off a small stream of smoke from the overheated charge cartridge.

“Not to chaperone,” Flint said with a curt bow, “to help carry things.”

She blew him a kiss and gave Joji a nod before they both left the control room, following the rest of the scattered vanguard. It had taken two years of constant training before Flint had allowed Miranda to join the vanguard. It was the day they had taken the _Maria Aleyne_ and slaughtered everyone onboard. She’d never allowed him to board a vessel without her since.

“Do you have it?” Flint asked as he turned towards Silver.

Something flickered on the screen before them. Silver adjusted a few parameters here and there, and the image sharpened, coming into focus. A star map.

“I’ll be damned,” Flint exhaled.

“There she is,” Silver poked the screen, using his fingers to zoom in. “New Nassau.” His entire face lit up as he smiled at Flint. “We did it!”

“Great, now upload it to Billy and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Billy, open a link to receive transmission,” Silver said.

“Uplink established,” came the reply from the _Walrus_.

“There she goes,” Silver whispered as the planet disappeared from the screen, along with the star map. “Billy, stand by to receive the data package from planetary surveillance,” Silver said, fingers flying across the controls while Flint watched him work.

“Transmission received,” Billy’s voice announced over the uplink.

“Now I just have to program the system to self-destruct,” Silver muttered, continuing to interface with the _Urca_ ’s controls.

“Data saved,” Billy informed them.

“Stand by to recover the vanguard,” Flint ordered.

“Standing by, Captain.”

“We’re heading out, fall back to the ships,” Flint spoke into his transponder.

“Copy that,” Miranda’s voice replied.

With the exception of a few unavoidable injuries, it had all gone exceptionally well. He wasn't normally one for a premature celebration, but Flint had to wonder whether this wasn’t some kind of karmic payback for everything he’d had to endure to even get this far.

“That should do it,” Silver said as he stepped away from the controls. “Let’s get out of here.”

Silver’s hand was on Flint’s arm in a gesture of friendly familiarity. They turned just in time to see the door to the control room slide closed in front of them.

“What the fuck,” Flint said succinctly.

“Um… open sesame?” Silver tried, waving his hand in front of the sensor. “No? Computer, unlock gateway.”

“This ship will self destruct in sixty minutes,” _Urca_ ’s system replied in a very jovial womanly voice. “All hands abandon ship.”

“Billy, report!” Flint shouted.

“I’ve been locked out of the uplink, Captain.”

“Well, reestablish it and override her!”

Silver ran back towards the control panel, swiping his fingers frantically across the screens. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Cannot reestablish uplink, Captain,” Billy’s voice returned. “I believe the explorer’s internal computer was too compromised by Nightraider when we attempted to derail their gateway controls.”

“You’re fucking _kidding_ me!” Silver exploded.

“I do not find this an appropriate time for jokes, Captain’s second spouse,” Billy replied. “You are going to die in… 58 minutes.”

“James!” It was Miranda’s voice coming across the coms from the _Walrus_. “Don’t listen to him! We’ll figure something out. We’ll get you out of there. Just… hang on, all right?”

“All right, Miranda. I’ll see you soon,” Flint replied, before muting the coms. He pulled both blasters from his thigh holsters and unloaded them into the locked door. “A thousand flaccid cocks!” Silver blinked at him, apparently unmoved by Flint invoking the most unfortunate thing in the universe, while the door remained stubbornly closed. “Come on, hacking genius, you’ve gotta be able to do _something_!”

“As far as I can tell, I can’t reverse this unless we extract Nightraider, and we can’t extract Nightraider if Billy can’t uplink with this ship. In other news, I think your android might be purposefully trying to murder us, out of sheer spite.”

“Androids are incapable of spite.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Flint chuckled. At first it was merely a soft burst of laughter, but before long, he was doubled over in hysterics, tears running down his face as peels of uncontrollable mirth rocked his body. He could no longer support his own weight, so he slid down along the wall, and sprawled there, gasping for air, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You alright?” Silver asked, slumping down next to him.

“Yeah…” Flint emitted between labored gasps. “It’s just… this wasn’t how I pictured myself dying.”

“Well, not all hope is lost. Almost an hour is plenty of time. Your homicidal cyborg might still have an idea for saving us?”

“Stop... making me... laugh…” Flint managed through a renewed fit of giggles. He threw back his head and craned his neck so that he could see Silver’s strangely serene face. “You’re not worried?”

“Well, we transmitted the map, so technically the mission was a success,” Silver shrugged.

“Right. We’re going to die heroes.”

“Incredible. Look at us!”

“Yeah,” Flint chuckled again. “Look at us.” And he turned fully to get a better look at the man he was about to share a glorious death with. “You’re not as terrible as I originally thought, you know. I mean, if I had to be forced to marry some random guy, I’m glad it was you.”

“That’s maudlin, Captain.”

“You’re still kind of an ass though.”

“That’s better.”

Silver smiled and his hand reached across the floor tentatively until his pinky brushed against Flint’s.

“Sorry we didn’t get that marriage annulled before death,” Silver whispered.

“This ship will self-destruct in fifty minutes,” the _Urca_ chimed in. “All hands abandon ship.”

“She’s a bit cunty,” Flint sighed.

“She’s entitled to a bit of cuntiness,” Silver replied with a small grin. “Hey, we still have fifty minutes. And you never did tell me your big, dark backstory.”

“Why do you think it was dark?” Flint asked.

“Because you get this facial twitch each time I bring it up,” Silver replied, his hand brushing against Flint’s cheekbone.

Flint closed his eyes and saw two orange moons.

_My moon and my stars_ , Thomas had said to them both.

_Why does she get to be the stars?_ James had asked.

“How much do you know about life on Terra?” Flint asked.

Life on Terra was always complicated by one simple fact: a shortage of women. Something about the extra metals in the atmosphere that had affected the epigenetics of the X chromosome. If you were a man of standing, a man of quality, a man of value, you would be granted a wife. You were expected to procreate with this wife as much as possible, to ensure the continuation of your line, and the survival of the colonies on Terra. Thomas Hamilton had been extremely lucky in respect that the woman assigned to him had been Miranda Barlow, a woman who understood perfectly well the many reasons a man might _not_ wish to lie with his wife. For that, and many of her other finer qualities, Thomas adored her.

“Where do you come into this story?” Silver asked.

If a woman on Terra had trouble conceiving with her assigned spouse, she had the right to take a second husband for the preservation of the human race. As deeply conservative as many aspects of life on Terra were, this was one area in which prudishness had no place. There was nothing more important on Terra than the shepherding of new life into the world. No fertile womb left behind.

“I was the liaison assigned to the Hamiltons by the Admiralty.”

“Wait… you… a _liaison_? You mean they literally sent you in there to impregnate her?”

“I was an officer in the fleet, one of their best fighter pilots, with a bright future. To marry into the Hamilton family was a big honor for me and a fantastic career move.”

“Unfortunately, you fell in love with her?”

“I fell in love with _him_.”

Miranda had been an angel, indeed, but even she became concerned that without her bringing a new baby into the world, their position in Terran society would become increasingly vulnerable. Homosexual acts were outlawed on Terra, as they were viewed with the same apprehension as outmoded - barbaric, as they were called - methods of birth control. A man’s job, other than to protect his home, was to spread his seed and see it implanted. 

“Thomas and I were oblivious to the danger we were in, so enthralled were we with each other. She’d tried to warn us, but like fools we did not heed her. We'd become too complacent, too blind to the limits of our own privilege.”

“What happened?”

“Thomas’ father learned of our affair, and rather than risk exposing his family honor to a scandal such as that, immediately shifted all the blame onto Miranda. Oh, he knew what he was doing. By striking at Miranda, he was striking at the very core of our household.”

“What could he do to Miranda?” Silver asked. “She had done nothing wrong.”

“She had done the most horribly wrong thing: she had failed to get pregnant, despite having two ostensibly virile husbands.”

“Well… fuck.”

“Alfred Hamilton had her declared a witch and condemned _in absentia_. When the soldiers came to take her from our home, Thomas and I both took up arms to protect her. Thomas fell…”

_You have to save her._ Those were his last words to James as he lay bleeding at his feet. Miranda was screaming, crimson drops of his splattered blood trailing down her gaunt cheeks as if she had cried tears. James had clasped her hand in his and ran out the rear entrance, without looking back. Out in the yard was a small hovercraft with an Imperial Alliance insignia upon the wings. James had snapped the pilot’s neck before the man even realized he was under assault, and pushed Miranda inside.

“I remember her yelling at me over the sound of the engine, ‘Do you know how to fly this thing!’” Flint’s lips folded into a sad smile at the recollection. “I reminded her that before I became her would-be sperm donor, I was the best pilot at the Admiralty.” He paused and took a cautious look at his transponder. It was silent. “Anyways, we’ve been declared fugitives and traitors to the Empire since that day. I suppose in some way, we’ve been living on borrowed time all along.”

“I’m sorry,” Silver said. Somehow, during the course of Flint’s story, he’d managed to move closer, and now Flint discovered his face mere inches away. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that. But most of all, I’m sorry that here you are, telling me this truly awful tale, and all I can think of is ‘Yay, he likes dudes!’”

Flint swallowed. “Do… do _you_ like... dudes?”

“Well, I like _one_ dude….”

“You’re ridiculous. Stop speaking.”

“Make me, you asshat.”

Flint’s hand was already grasping at Silver’s lapel when he’d come out with that predictable come back, so all he had to do was tug ever so slightly before Silver was falling into his arms, their lips colliding, pulling back, and reattaching with unexpected sweetness. Flint’s hands pressed against Silver’s neck, holding him closer while his tongue gently probed and breached the bow-shaped seam of his mouth. Silver whimpered against his lips, opening up and suddenly attempting to devour all of Flint. They fit just right, even their noses that gently brushed together as they returned, kiss after kiss, for another taste at each other. Silver’s hand was digging into the meat of Flint’s ass, while his own was caressing the naked lobes of Silver’s ears. Tiny and _adorable_.

“This ship will self-destruct in thirty minutes. All hands abandon ship.”

“Ugh, I don’t wanna die yet,” Silver groaned into Flint’s mouth. “There are so many things I still haven’t had a chance to do with you. Seems a damned shame.”

“I know,” Flint said as he sucked a line of future bruises up along the column of Silver’s neck. “We never actually consummated our marriage.”

“I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you lay Vane out on Nassau, I just need you to know that before we die.”

“You weren’t there,” Flint pointed out as he continued to bite and kiss Silver’s sharp collarbones. “It was a private dispute.”

“I was there when the Maxanor reviewed the security tape. I might have volunteered you for this mission because I thought you were hot as fuck.”

“You shit!” Flint rocked into Silver’s hand which had somehow managed to sneak down the front of his pants. 

“I’m sorry about the whole… getting you killed part, but… Ah!” The last cry was due to Flint sinking his teeth into the base of his neck. Flint’s head hit the wall with a thump, his mouth and eyes full of stray curls. Thirty minutes was long enough to still go out on a high note.

It was at that precise moment that his transponder blared at him and Silver slithered like a snake from his lap.

“What’s going on, _Walrus_?” Flint groaned.

“Billy thinks he has a way to get you out,” Miranda’s voice came across the coms. 

“We’re listening.”

“Betsy was able to locate old schematics of the _Urca_ ,” Billy reported. “You might be able to get to an escape pod from your location. It will involve tearing up the floor to… What’s that noise, Captain?”

“That’s the sound of us tearing up the floor! Keep talking, Billy!”

“To get to the ventilation system below. The ventilation system is down right now in preparation for the self-destruct. You’ll need to follow the vents leading to the interior.”

“For how long?” Flint asked, pushing Silver’s ass ahead of him through the vent.

“Another fifty feet should take you under the main corridor. You should be able to climb through an exhaust there. The escape pods are located by the emergency hatch, next to the medical bay.” “Yup,” Flint grunted, “I remember seeing it.”

“The doors will be open.”

“Thanks, Billy.”

“Don’t thank him _yet_ ,” Silver muttered, scrambling along the vent like some harried rodent.

“ _Walrus_ , you and the _Maroon Queen_ should all get out of the range of the blast.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Miranda?”

There was silence across the transponder. “James?” Her voice was quivering. She did not want him to know she was crying.

“I’m coming back, all right? I’ll see you soon.”

“This ship will self destruct in fifteen minutes. All hands abandon ship.”

By the clanging sound ahead of him, Silver must have made impact with something metal, and in another moment Flint was following him out into the corridor of the _Urca de Lima_ and running down in the direction of the emergency hatch through a maze lit only with flashing emergency lights.

“Where???” Silver flailed as Flint pulled him along yet another corridor. “You’re really good with directions…”

They both stumbled over each other as they fell into the bay full of abandoned escape pods. The _Urca_ ’s crew had no time to make use of them. “Shut up and get in that pod.” 

“You really love her though, don’t you?”

“What did I say?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Silver crawled into the back of a two-seater, while Flint grabbed two helmets off the nearby wall. 

“Strap in, gorgeous!”

“You know there’s no one around to hear you say that, right?”

“This ship will self destruct in five minutes…”

“I hate this bitch!” Flint announced, pressing the initiating sequence on the controls.

“....All hands abandon ship.”

“Hey James?”

“ _What_???”

“You do actually know how to fly this thing, right?”

Flint laughed and pressed the accelerator.

***

The steel beams of the overpass inside the _Maroon Queen_ creaked underneath Flint’s boots as he walked towards Madi’s command center following an armed guard and trailed by two more armed guards, plus a very flustered John Silver.

“You did not have to do this,” Silver was saying, “I was perfectly capable of delivering the map to her myself.”

“I’m not questioning how capable you are, I wanted to do this in person. I owe the maroon captain my apology,” Flint replied under his breath.

“I know what this is,” Silver shook his curls. “You still don’t trust me.”

Flint did not reply. Despite everything that passed in those few hours, he wasn’t exactly overcome by a feeling of utter confidence that Silver wouldn’t stab him in the ass if opportunity presented itself.

“I want to speak to her,” was all Flint gave him for the time being.

When the doors to the command center slid open, Flint took a moment to compose himself before entering. She was younger and shorter in person than she seemed looming from the com screen. Even at an arm’s length away, her skin smelled of something warm and nutty, an organic product that could only have been cultivated on a planet. The maroons had managed to adapt incredibly well, considering they’d been just as displaced as the denizens of Nassau.

“Captain Flint,” Madi nodded towards him as he approached. “Close call out there.”

“I wanted to deliver this to you by hand,” Flint said, placing a small chip into the center of Madi’s palm. “You’ll find there a copy of everything we recovered from the _Urca_. We will still need to have our scientists review all the data once we’re back on Nassau, but if it holds up, I imagine we will be moving towards the new planet in a matter of months. It would be beneficial to both our parties if your people were to join us on this journey.”

“Our scientists will review this data as well,” was all Madi said, fingers clasped over the chip.

“It would be unrealistic to expect that we will be able to hide from the Empire forever,” Flint added. “Together, we would be better equipped to defend ourselves against any uninvited visitors. And if we are all to build a new life there, we could use all the hands and minds we can get.”

“I will take your proposal back,” Madi said with a curt nod.

“Send word to Nassau once you’ve decided?”

“Very well.” Madi’s eyes traveled over Flint’s shoulder over to Silver. “What of my traitor? Will you turn him over as well?”

“Hey!” Silver, who’d somehow managed to stay quiet till this point, let his presence be known. “We had an agreement!”

“As much as I’d love to sweeten the deal for you,” Flint smiled, “he and I have some unfinished business. I’m keeping him for now. If you want him, come with us to this new planet. Didn’t he say he’d let you kick his ass once you were on _terra firma_?”

“You’ll have your hands full with that one, Captain,” Madi said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Aye, don’t I know it,” Flint sighed.

“May the stars light your path, Captain Flint.”

“And yours, Madi.”

It had been such an old-fashioned and formal greeting that Flint felt deeply touched by it. As if the girl before him spoke some secret language, from a time when the universe wasn’t a malevolent maw, set to devour him. But it was also possible that he’d been wrong. It was possible that Silver’s star map led somewhere new, somewhere good. A future.

_May the stars light our path_ , Flint thought as he stepped back aboard the _Walrus_.

“Mr. DeGroot, set our return course for Nassau,” he commanded.


	4. Chapter 4

Flint spent the night in Miranda’s room, sleeping curled up around her lithe, slender form, her long brown hair fanned out over the top of his head, tickling his nose, her arm slung around his shoulder as he used her chest for a pillow. Her last words echoed in his mind, penetrating his dreams.

“I can’t lose you!”

“I’m here.”

“I can’t lose you, too!”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d left Silver in his own quarters that night, after a brief but painfully awkward encounter.

“Why don’t you take the bed?” he’d muttered.

“I really wish we could talk about what happened…”

“Miranda really needs me right now.”

“...... All right.” It was said in such a way that Flint had very little doubt it meant anything _but_ “all right.”

“Look, it’s been quite a day…”

“Just… just go.”

And he did go. Flint slept with his ear towards the beating of Miranda’s heart. He must’ve been heavy. A burden that her body and her soul had gotten used to bearing. Perhaps it worked so well on Terra, for the brief time before it all fell apart, because he’d always been too heavy a burden for one person to carry alone. His bones were too dense, his heart too greedy.

They’d arrived in Nassau the following day on the atomic clock, to a great amount of fanfare. The Maxanor even threw a lavish banquet in their honor, which not only did Flint have to attend, but all while being seated at the table of honor with the Maxanor who made so many jokes at the expense of his “honeymoon” that Flint felt the need to get drunk as quickly as possible. It was the only sensible thing to do.

Silver, of course, was… Silver. He danced table to table, regaling everyone with tales of their heroic deeds (which even occasionally featured Flint doing something other than witnessing Silver’s greatness), delivered elaborate toasts, kissed babies, and even sang an old raider shanty (but Flint was pretty sure he’d changed the words into something vaguely lugubrious). Flint was exhausted just watching him.

He ducked out of the party as soon as it was polite to do so and made his way to the lookout deck, the starlit darkness of the galaxy opening up above him through the triple-paned glass. He took a long inhale, pretending he was standing outside, on a terrace overlooking Lake Albion, back on Terra, the night air pregnant with the scent of jasmine blooms.

“So I guess that’s that,” Silver’s voice startled him from his reverie. “I imagine it’ll take a few days for them to comb through all that data, but assuming it all checks out…”

“Yeah,” Flint replied. Assuming it all checked out, he'd have Silver off his ship and out of his life. “What… uh… what will you do?”

“You mean after we get our marriage annulled?”

“Right…,” Flint said with niggling uncertainty.

“I imagine the preparations will keep us all busy.”

“Right.”

“Do you really not give a shit at all?” Flint blinked and his hands twitched. “I mean I guess it was all just the adrenaline rush for you. Last hour to live and all that.”

“I almost died,” Flint muttered.

“Yeah, I know!” Silver laughed bitterly. “In all the excitement, this may have slipped your attention, but I almost died too.”

“Look, I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Flint said weakly. Kissing Silver had felt… inevitable. But he’d never really thought they’d have a future, least of all _this_ future. And besides, despite everything Silver had said, Flint had been his assignment. His _mark_.

“I’m gonna go wash the stench of last few weeks off me,” Silver said with a resigned look. “It’s been… interesting, Captain. You know where to find me to deliver the annulment papers.”

Flint watched Silver walk away, somehow hating himself more and more with each step that man took further away from him.

***

Roughly thirty minutes later, Flint was knocking on the door of Silver’s room. He had to go through a sea of working girls and a couple of very intoxicated working boys until he found one who was sober and willing enough to show him the way to their former madam’s brother’s residence.

“They call you _Long_ John?” Flint spat out as soon as the door opened a crack, but then the door opened all the way and Flint lost his gift of speech.

Silver stood in the doorway wearing a very cozy looking robe that hung loosely about his wide shoulders, exposing his chest that still glistened with steam. His hair hung low in loose tendrils, dripping moisture all around him. Where the drops landed on his skin, Flint could swear he heard a soft hiss, akin to the sound oil made when touching a hot skillet. The skillet was probably all in his mind, but the vision that was a wet and partially naked John Silver, well, that was all real.

“Did you really come all this way just to question one of my many nicknames?” Silver’s brows were furrowed in confusion and consternation. Flint had the distinct feeling he was only a second away from the door slamming in his face.

He placed his hand on the door, leaning against it to prevent the closure from happening. “No,” he said. “I wanted to…” He needed to start over. There was a pooling of moisture at the base of Silver’s neck, right in the groove between his collarbones. “I came here to tell you it wasn’t just the adrenaline rush. Or the last hour to live thing. I would have kissed you sooner or later, regardless.”

Silver smiled and took a step back into the room. “Come inside.”

“I don’t want to impose, I just really didn’t want you to think that it meant nothing.”

“Come inside,” Silver repeated, pulling Flint along by the sleeve of his jacket. The door shut behind him and he sucked in a long breath. It was taking all his self control not to simply reach out and… “James?”

Before Flint could fully take stock of what he was doing, he’d had Silver slammed against the wall, his hands lost in the dripping tendrils as he moaned into Silver’s mouth. Silver’s hands scrambled for purchase on his clothes, pulling him closer, sneaking one wandering hand under his shirt where it burned like a brand against Flint’s skin. He kissed Silver like a man shot out into space drinks in a sudden gulp of oxygen, with abandon and gratitude, his hips thrusting forward to pin them both in place like a moth pinned to the cardboard. He wanted to pin Silver to this moment, with his own body, to keep him in place, just like this, so warm, and beautiful, and painfully real. Flint could weep, he had not felt this kind of singeing desire for longer than he cared to recall.

“Gods, I want you,” he moaned into Silver’s open and panting mouth. “I’m sorry we’re doing everything backwards,” he whispered as he pressed his lips along Silver’s jaw and sucked one of his tiny earlobes into his mouth. “I want… I want… _please_ let me.”

“You realize if we do this, we can’t get the annulment,” Silver said through rapid intakes of air. His irises were almost completely obscured by the obsidian of his pupils as he stared back at Flint, flushed and gorgeous and entirely bad news. “This would be considered consummating.”

“I don’t _want_ the annulment,” Flint responded with petulance. “I want to make this work,” he added quietly. “I mean… if that’s what you wanted, I don’t want to presume…” He had stopped talking because Silver’s tongue was in his mouth again, playful yet firm, demanding, seeking. _This_. This felt right. Flint could not imagine having to live another day when he would not get to do this. It would be exceptionally cruel of the universe, even considering what a bitch she’d always been to him. “ _John_ ,” he moaned, while Silver rubbed his entire face and body against him like an affectionate cat.

At last, Silver pulled back, his eyes seeking out Flint’s as if attempting to burrow into his mind. “Do you trust me?” he asked breathlessly.

“I…” Flint stammered. Did he?

“You still don’t trust me.” Silver’s hand slid from his shoulder and his body shifted just enough to separate them. Flint immediately missed the warmth of him, his hands following Silver’s receding form like a flower turning towards the sun.

“Don’t go… I… We are a good team, aren’t we?”

“Do you trust me?” Silver repeated.

“I want nothing more than to say ‘yes’, you must realize this. You’re asking something of me that is fundamentally… difficult.” Flint reached out for him again and this time Silver allowed him to reel him back in. “It isn’t a reflection upon you,” he added.

“No, it is,” Silver smiled. “I get it. Like you said, we’ve done everything backwards.”

“Please,” Flint whispered against Silver’s forehead. “I need you.” He swallowed and tried again. “I trust you.”

Silver tilted his face up and drew Flint closer so he could place a kiss against each of his eyelids. “All right,” he whispered back, his breath scalding Flint’s skin. “Show me that you trust me.” He pulled the belt keeping his robe cinched out of the loops, giving Flint a better glimpse of his body as the robe fell open at his sides. “Let me do this,” Silver said, lifting his hands and holding the long belt in front of Flint’s face.

“You want to blindfold me…” Flint said, battling down the instinct to run.

“You did not let me do this when I gave you a massage,” Silver smiled and made no further move to put the blindfold on. “Will you let me do it now?”

Flint bowed his head forward and closed his eyes. “Go ahead.” The belt fell softly against his eyelids, was crossed behind his head and then Silver was gently prodding his mouth open and soft terry cloth lodged itself between Flint's teeth as Silver tied the belt off at the back of his skull. Flint groaned and his hands instinctively came up to pull the gag from his mouth, but Silver’s fingers were there first, stopping him.

“Your hands are free. You can take this off at any time,” he purred softly into Flint’s ear. “Let it be.” Flint grunted his assent against the gag, letting the feeling of darkness settle around him.

Silver’s lips brushed against the tips of his fingers. “Well done, Captain.” His hands were gliding against Flint’s face, his neck, pressing into his ribs. “See? You are in control,” Silver said as he moved Flint’s hands and Flint became aware of his fingers wrapping around Silver’s neck. It was long and lithe in his grip and the blood pulsated so strongly there that Flint could swear it was resonating against his own temples. His thumb slid up and down the sharp point of Silver’s Adam’s apple, caressing the soft skin that purred and sizzled under his touch. He squeezed gently and let go, allowing his hands to blindly settle against Silver’s naked chest.

It was as if putting your hand into the fire and letting it burn. Silver’s skin was aflame beneath his touch and Flint moaned into his gag again, more helplessly now because he was being given something very precious: the freedom to let go.

“I’ll take care of you,” Silver said and pushed Flint down upon the bed.

He did not want to let him go, the guiding heat of him, and Flint found himself reaching out again blindly, until his arms were full of the molten lava of Silver’s naked body as he poured himself into Flint's embrace. It was his turn to rub his face against Silver like a cat, a cat in heat no less. He was painfully hard, so much so that even thinking about his cock might have gotten him off.

He had tried to help Silver get his own clothes off, but eventually gave up as the darkness overtook him and he fell over upon the mattress, laughing into his makeshift gag, while Silver’s long fingers snuck around his body, pulling layers off him. Was he thankful he could not see Silver’s face as he was being peeled like some bulb vegetable? He felt alone and suddenly cold, his skin must have broken out into goosebumps, and then Silver’s hands were moving over his exposed flesh again, across his hips, over his stomach, on either side of his ribs as if trying to contain him.

“You’re beautiful, my captain,” Silver whispered and his breath tickled Flint’s nose.

Flint keened against the cloth stifling him and reached out, his arms circling around Silver to hold him close. His hands began to trail down the hard planes of Silver’s abs until one of his palms curled around his jutting cock. Flint almost choked, he suddenly understood why the local sex workers had referred to him as Long John, fucking _hell_. Silver chuckled against Flint’s ear.

“You’re thinking so loudly, I can almost hear the gears clicking, as if you were Billy.”

Flint grunted into the gag and squeezed his hand around that meat monster more firmly, to let Silver know he meant business. Silver’s hips stuttered as he thrust into the grip of Flint’s fist.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” A slick warmth was being spread over Flint’s own cock and he clutched at Silver’s shoulder blade with the one hand that wasn’t stroking up and down his length.

He wanted to see Silver. Wanted to watch his face while he ran his thumb over the sensitive skin of his balls or swept up the moisture pearling at the tip. Wanted to see his eyes roll into the back of his head while he sucked him in whole, wanted to taste him. There would be time for that later ( _Gods_ , Flint hoped there would be time!). For the time being, he was seeing Silver much more clearly than ever before. There was a certain freedom in the darkness that they had descended into together, and he wanted to thank Silver for allowing him to go there with him.

He whimpered as Silver sank slowly over his engorged cock. Flint’s hands were under his armpits, pulling him down, pulling him closer until he bottomed out. The warm slide of Silver’s ass against his naked thighs alone was enough for him to ascend to a higher plane. He barely had the strength to thrust up into that perfect sheath and allowed the roll of Silver's hips to control their joint movements, while he buried his face in the warmth of Silver's neck, the wetness of his curls. There was something else wet on his face, which Flint belatedly realized must have been his own tears, but only when Silver’s thumbs came to brush the moisture away.

“It’s all right,” Silver breathed out against his hair. “You’re safe,” he said as his body clamped down around Flint. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Flint came. He would have possibly felt bad about finishing so quickly another time, but in the veil of darkness that had descended over him, there was no shame. Only a bone-melting sense of contentment.

Silver’s fingers were pulling at the cloth, taking the belt out of his mouth, for which Flint was grateful because the gag was immediately replaced by Silver’s lips and tongue. Flint moaned into the kiss, his nails leaving possessive trails over Silver’s back as his cock still twitched inside him with a valiant effort. Then he pressed his lips to Silver’s chin, the sharp peak of his Adam’s apple, and the wings of his clavicles. “Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Flint muttered now that he could talk.

It was only when Silver’s hands carded through his hair and pulled at the knot on the back of his head that he remembered he had still been blindfolded.

He blinked, noting with renewed gratitude that Silver had dimmed the lights sometime in the process of fucking him out of his mind. Silver’s hair was plastered around his face and neck and Flint brushed it away from his eyes and tucked it behind those tiny, ridiculous ears that had been his undoing. Very aware suddenly of the fact that he was still buried inside him, Flint allowed his eyes to trail down Silver’s naked body, taking in the lines that he’d only gotten to caress in the darkness before.

Along Silver’s right side, running down his ribs and sweeping over his obliques until it reached the sharp point of his hip bone, was an elaborate series of hieroglyphs, tattooed into Silver’s skin. Flint’s hands paused, tracing over the foreign letters. He could not read the inscription, but he recognized it as the official writing of the Imperial House of Chikyu. There were only two reasons a person might bear a tattoo such as this: he was either a member of the royal family, or a member of the royal harem.

Flint looked up, meeting Silver’s gaze. Silver said nothing, but his eyes held a question and a warning. Flint pulled him down into another kiss, while his hand deftly found Silver’s cock again and stroked it firmly where it lay trapped between their bodies.

 

“It’s all right,” Flint whispered against Silver’s lips. “You’re safe,” he kissed behind his ear. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Come what may, Flint decided, he would never ask that question.

***

Flint woke up to curls tickling his nostrils. He grinned and burrowed his nose deeper into the mess of hair tucked under his beard. He flexed his fingers as the sensations of wakefulness poured themselves into his limbs slowly along with his consciousness. His body lay pleasantly lax, only partially smothered and enveloped by Silver’s limbs where they were either slung over or intertwined with Flint’s own. Flint moved one arm, the one that was trapped somehow under Silver’s armpit, then the other, trapped under Silver’s head, then gave up and pressed a kiss to Silver’s curl-hidden forehead.

He was rewarded with a low purr, and Silver’s entire body undulated against him like a wave, ending with his face lifting to rub all the way along Flint’s unshaven cheeks. He finally managed to maneuver his arms well enough to bring Silver into a proper embrace, allowing them both to trade lazy, unhurried kisses as the simulated daylight lamp began to cast off an encroaching glow.

Before they’d finally permitted themselves to fall asleep the night before, Flint got his wish to taste Silver properly, and he now wondered whether Silver could still taste himself on his tongue as he lapped into his mouth with warm and unashamed need, punctuated with soft moans, fingers clutching at Flint’s ribs and shoulder blades for purchase.

“Kitten,” Flint breathed against Silver’s lips, “you’re insatiable.”

Silver’s lips stilled and his eyes focused vaguely on the tip of Flint’s nose in deep contemplation. Silver’s eyelashes fluttered upwards with his eyelids, exposing a pair of dark blue galaxies that were his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, his teeth grazing against Flint’s lower lip. His hand carded through Flint’s hair in long, soothing strokes. “You don’t have to say it back,” he added as he went back to nibbling along Flint’s mouth, his forehead butting against Flint’s own like a playful feline.

“Did you have cats on Chikyu?” Flint asked in a soft voice, not wanting to startle Silver with his choice of words.

“Why?” Silver asked, his cheek sliding up against Flint’s own.

“Because the way you rub your entire face up against me… No, don’t stop,” Flint said, “I like it.”

Silver pressed closer again, head tucked into the curve of Flint’s neck. His silence stretched into a string of fleeing moments until Flint almost forgot his question. “We did have cats on Chikyu,” he finally said. A small admission of things better left buried.

Flint smiled. “I love you, too.” He moved the mop of curls to the side to expose the pale tip of one of Silver’s ears, and he pressed his lips there. “My little mouse.”

“Which is it?” Silver mumbled into his neck. “Am I a mouse or a cat?”

Flint giggled, his fingers caught indelibly in the net of dark magic that was Silver’s hair. “You’re all the furry creatures of the Old World,” he declared.

Silver shrugged and pressed his hips more firmly against Flint. “Better than all the over-the-top pet names you were giving me when you were just _pretending_ to like me.”

Flint was about to flip that boy onto his back and kiss a very long and wet trail all the way down his body when both their transponders went off at the same time.

“Noooooo.”

“Uuuugh…”

They rolled apart with simultaneous groans.

“It’s Eleanor,” Flint said, looking at the text on his screen. “She wants to see me immediately.”

“Mine’s from Max. She says to come to High Command right away.”

“We’ve been summoned,” Flint chuckled. “You know what this means…”

“... Our scientists have analyzed the data, yeah.”

Silver’s transponder lit up again. Flint watched as Silver’s face grew momentarily white, but then his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face.

“What does it say?”

Silver flipped the screen towards Flint. “We have a planet. We’re going home.”

***

**A Terran Year Later**

The _Walrus’_ engines hummed their familiar tune as Flint strode down the corridor towards his own quarters. A few months ago, when they had disassembled the space station and set out to plot the course towards an unknown planet, it all seemed like a fever dream from which Flint had been afraid to wake up. Now, they were about to find out if they had all been collectively dreaming.

A child ran past him, eliciting the perfunctory “Walk, don’t run,” from Flint. He was only happy he didn’t have to carry the burden of the entire future generation on his shoulders alone, because he had Silver and Miranda with him. Come to think of it, if this mission failed in the end, he’d be only too happy to blame the whole thing on the Maxanor and their romantic notions.

He turned the corner and walked through the door of his quarters to find his spouses in the middle of what seemed like a heated debate over his miniature tree collection.

“They’re plants, John!” Miranda was saying. “We can give them the unfiltered water, they have their own filtration system. It's called roots.”

“I’m not an expert in horticulture, but if these little fuckers die because you refused to be nice to them…”

“Better they than you!”

“Ahem,” Flint cleared his throat.

“Darling,” Miranda and Silver intoned in unison.

“We’re on our final approach,” Flint said. “We should be at the atmospheric levels in less than half an hour. I thought the two of you might wish to join me in the control room?”

“We’re there?” Miranda’s eyes widened and she pressed her hand against her heart, as if to still its tempestuous beat.

Silver clambered up from his knees where he’d been attending to a prickly specimen and offered Miranda his hand, pulling her up with easy gallantry. Flint drew them both into an embrace, his arms encircling their waists while their arms formed a protective cocoon around him. He lingered there, breathing in their warmth, relishing the moments of peace before hurtling head first into the unknown.

“Thank you for coming to get us,” Silver whispered into his ear.

“Of course,” Flint smiled. “Besides, it would be odd to not have the crew’s quartermaster in the control room at a time like this.”

Silver opened his mouth and raised his brows. “They voted?”

“They did,” Flint responded.

“You deserve it, sweetie,” Miranda said, placing a kiss on Silver’s cheek. “You had my vote as well. Although I still cannot believe Hal has decided to retire!”

“I hope he doesn’t expect me to pay him a pension,” Flint added with a chuckle.

Back in the control room, Flint rounded the stations and listened to all the reports, fingers nervously stroking over his beard. The fleet had already dropped speed to prepare for the approach, excited chatter traveled across the coms from every vessel as they watched the fabled planet take form before their eyes, all awash in swirls of blue and green.

“She’s beautiful,” Miranda whispered, pressing Flint’s hand. He pressed back, his eyes fixed upon the image on the other side of the ship’s glass shield. There it was - the treasure beyond his wildest dreams. New Nassau.

“We’re being hailed by the _Maroon Queen_ ,” Billy reported.

“Open coms.”

“Greetings, Captain Flint.” Madi’s face appeared on the screen, smiling and radiant.

“Good to see you, Madi,” Flint responded. “I hope your fleet has no losses to report?”

“We are all accounted for,” Madi replied. “My people are putting together a scouting mission to confirm the viability of the planet, and I wanted to extend to you the courtesy of an invitation if you wanted to send your people along with our party.”

“I’ll go,” Silver responded immediately.

“Madi,” Flint smiled tightly, “Would you excuse us one moment?” He muted the coms. “You shit!” he veered on Silver.

“What?”

“You’re not going down there, I can’t spare you!”

Silver pulled Flint aside. “James, I started this mission,” he spoke in a heated whisper. “And I’ll be damned if I’m not in the first group of humans on that planet!”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Flint said loudly. “That’s all there is to it.”

“If you’re going, I’m going as well,” Miranda chimed in, her eyebrows pointing towards each other like two very irate arrows.

“If you all go, who will remain in charge of the vessel?” Billy asked.

“Well not _you_ ,” Silver pointed out to the android quickly. “Sorry,” he whispered aside to Flint, “I still don’t really trust him, I don’t know why.”

Flint sighed and clicked on his transponder. “Hal, I need you in control. You’re in charge while we explore the planet.”

“I’m retired!” Gates’ irate voice came across the transponder.

“Sorry, old pal, but it was either you or Dooley. No offense, Dooley.”

“None taken, Captain,” Dooley shrugged.

“That settles it. Prepare the shuttle,” Flint ordered. “You two,” he pointed to his spouses, “gear up. We can't be sure we’ll actually be able to breathe down there.”

***

“James, what the fuck are you doing!” Miranda yelled as Flint leapt from the shuttle and tore off his helmet immediately.

“The readings look safe,” Silver exhaled as he checked the oxygen and carbon dioxide levels on the sensors.

Flint was laughing. He’d fallen to his knees and tore off the protective gloves from his hands, thrusting his fingers into the the thick grass all around him, digging his nails into the soft soil and breathing in the many fragrances of this new place.

“You idiot, I hope you’re allergic to everything on this planet,” Silver said as he came up behind him and removed his own helmet as well. “Just, please, don't start licking things.”

Above their heads, beyond the cerulean hues of the skies, lay the old Nassau and Maroon fleets, awaiting confirmation that it would be safe to come down to make this virginal planet their home. Miranda's laughter echoed from a distance followed by her voice, “John, look! Come look at this!” Flint took another deep breath, allowing his lungs to fill with air and sunlight. He felt weightless, much lighter than he ever did on Terra, almost as if he could float away, although he supposed that was more an effect of giddiness than gravity.

He rose to his feet, eyes taking in the open field where they had landed. About fifty paces away, Silver stood with his head thrown back, eyes fixed on a thicket that towered ahead of them like an army of giants, branches pregnant with foliage and echoing with the sound of what Flint only hoped were very content (and maybe even delicious) birds. He walked up behind Silver and wrapped his arms around his waist, tucking his chin over his husband’s shoulder.

“What are you looking at, babe?” Flint asked softly.

A gentle breeze blew stray tendrils of his curls into Flint's face, catching on his beard. Silver let his head roll back against Flint’s body, relaxing into his touch. “Trees,” he said quietly. “So many trees. They’re beautiful.”

There was nothing Flint could say to contradict him. “Welcome home, Mr. Quartermaster,” he replied, tightening his arms.

“Welcome home, Captain,” Silver echoed.

**~The New Beginning~**

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you've enjoyed SPACE!
> 
> You can also find all of us on Tumblr!
> 
> [Aquafolie](http://aquafolie.tumblr.com/)  
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